


life must go on, i forget just why

by anonymousAlchemist, emi_rose



Series: periapsis [4]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Gen, Grief/Mourning, Stolen Century, coping is hard sometimes okay, coping through friendship, so major character death is a bit of a misnomer, the first time lup died and taako didn't
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-23
Updated: 2018-02-23
Packaged: 2019-03-22 20:09:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13771608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonymousAlchemist/pseuds/anonymousAlchemist, https://archiveofourown.org/users/emi_rose/pseuds/emi_rose
Summary: “You sure you don’t wanna come?” Lup asks, packing an extra set of knives in her bag, along with her flask and torches. “It’ll be fu-un.”“Not on your life, Lulu,” Taako says, sitting across from her in the living room, feet crossed in his chair.She’s going to check out another rumor about the Light. This world is heavily populated, and the Light was retrieved before they could get to it. Taako was supposed to go with her, but it’s not really a two-person mission. He has things to do anyway.





	life must go on, i forget just why

“You sure you don’t wanna come?” Lup asks, packing an extra set of knives in her bag, along with her flask and torches. “It’ll be fu-un.” 

“Not on your life, Lulu,” Taako says, sitting across from her in the living room, feet crossed in his chair. 

She’s going to check out another rumor about the Light. This world is heavily populated, and the Light was retrieved before they could get to it. Taako was supposed to go with her, but it’s not really a two-person mission. He has things to do anyway. 

Lucretia, curled up in her favorite chair, is sketching with one hand and writing with the other, the twins’ figures blossoming under her pen as they quibble. “Hey, Lup, catch!” She throws a small journal, dark maroon with cream paper, at Lup’s head. 

Lup snatches it out of the air. 

“Ooh, presents, I love presents. What is it?” she asks, already cracking the notebook open. 

“Try to do a little documentation, if you can? Since I can’t come with you. And if you would be a dear and make it legible…” Lucretia trails off, distracted by the knick-knack whizzing past her head. 

“No promises,” Lup says, but her attitude is cut by the way she tucks the notebook carefully into her backpack. “I’ll be back before you know it.” 

“I’m counting on that, everyone else is going to be back for family dinner in a week or so, and I’d hate to be pressed into service to do anything except dishes.” Lucretia smiles warmly, and returns to her sketch.

“Luce, you’ve been banned from my kitchen since cycle  _ two _ ,” Taako says. 

“And no one  _ else _ wants me to take your place,” she says primly, hands still skittering across the pages. 

Lup laughs. “I’ll see you two when I get back. Keep the snipin’ to a minimum, kids.”  

“See you, Lulu,” Taako says, and gets up to give his sister a hug. 

Lup kisses Lucretia goodbye, gives Taako one last hug, and sets off.

* * *

 

Days later, Lucretia leaves to speak to the librarian of Fa’ana, following a lead on the Light and hoping to find a story or two to record. She discovers much more than she bargained for. 

On the road outside, she hears the sounds of battle. Lup is the source of the massive fireballs that morph into a plume of smoke and flame, and her view is obscured. When the smoke clears, Lup is gone. Lucretia continues towards the city, resolute. 

* * *

 

When Lucretia returns, she is ashamed to say she couldn’t find Lup, nor could she find a lead on the Light. It’s gone, swallowed up by the fighting. 

Taako gets up and leaves the room. He leaves the ship entirely. 

When he returns nine days later, he looks like hell and doesn’t speak, just curls up on the couch under three comforters.

“Couldn’t find her, but she’s gonna be back,” Taako says. “Probably just holed up with, iunno, some hot alien. S’not the first time.” 

Lucretia sighs and crosses her arms, leaning on the doorframe of Merle’s room, where Taako has been camping on the floor. Behind them, the twins’ room sits untouched behind a closed door. All of Lup’s things are just as she left them, dirty dishes and garbage and all. “Look, I’m upset too, but we have things to do.”

“Like what?” Taako snaps, burrowing deeper in his covers. 

“Like leaving your room, for one. Like finding the Light, for another.” Lucretia’s voice is strained in worry.

“I leave my room,” Taako says. “I made breakfast an’ everything. Leave me alone, Lucretia.” 

“Fine, leaving the ship, and eating the breakfast you make,” she amends, ignoring him.

“Lucretia,” he says, in an entirely reasonable tone of voice. “If she comes back, and I’m not here, then she’s gonna wonder what happened to me.” 

She rolls her eyes. “Like Davenport or I wouldn’t tell her where you went off to?.” She pauses, and her gaze softens. “Look, I’m not going to push you, I know how it is, when someone dies so early. But try not to isolate yourself, okay?” She slips away down the hall, closing the door gently behind her.

He stares at the closed door for a moment. “I’m not  _ isolating _ myself,” he says to the empty room. There’s no one there to hear him. “Lup’s not  _ dead _ ,” he says, swinging his legs over the side of his bed. He’s still in his pajamas. It’s four in the afternoon. 

Taako pulls on a hoodie and his hat (can’t go anywhere without the hat), over to the study where Lucretia probably is. 

* * *

 

Intellectually, Lucretia is fine. She’s reasoned herself into the conclusion that Lup is most likely dead, collecting and organizing supporting evidence in the journal she has dedicated to this purpose. Two weeks ago, she had started a new section in her funeral journal, writing Lup’s name in the header for the first time. She always writes scrupulously in this journal whenever anyone dies early, to make sure that they wouldn’t miss out on important information or dumb stories.

She watches her hand move, rational, dispassionate, shaking. It doesn’t feel like Lup is dead, she’s never been dead before, but the fact remains. She sits, hollow inside, staring at the page, floating out of time. 

“She’s not  _ dead _ ,” Taako says, banging the door to Lucretia’s study open. “She’s not dead, okay?” 

Lucretia startles and her chair tips back, teetering on the precipice, before she catches herself and thumps the front legs of the chair down hard. “What?” She shakes her head, clearing the cobwebs of being suddenly pulled back into awareness.

“Lup. She’s not dead.” 

Lucretia rubs her eyes. “What time is it?” she asks, smoothing the paper in front of her, filled with all of the evidence to the contrary. 

“I dunno,” he says. 

“It can’t have been that long,” she murmurs to herself, and stands up. Her eyes are glassy, not that she’d admit to it. She should be used to this by now, the unending cycle of loss, but who knew it would be so difficult to watch the same person die over and over? She’s not really sure what’s worse, getting used to it, or never learning to. 

“Hey, uh, you good?” Taako asks. He had expected to be met with some sort of conflict, after the conversation that they had in his and Lup’s bedroom. But Lucretia seems absent. 

She looks at him - no,  _ through _ him, and nods. “Mhm, just tired.” She moves like the atmosphere is dense, and it swirls and eddies in her wake.

“Go take a nap or somethin’,” Taako says. “Whatcha workin’ on, anyway?” 

Lucretia can’t remember. She shrugs and walks away.

* * *

It hits him when he’s making dinner. It’s just him in the kitchen, has been for the last few weeks, and it’s not for lack of offers of helping hands. He doesn’t like other people in his kitchen though, other than Lup, because she’s the only one who  _ gets _ his workflow.

He’s squeezing eggplant over the sink. Which is gross on a good day. Lup usually does it. 

Lup’s not here. And it hits him, that Lup isn’t going to be here, not for the rest of the year, that she’s not going to be standing next to him in the kitchen passing him utensils and ingredients and he won’t have anyone to shoot the shit with late at night and there’s no one who’s going to tell him when he’s being a jerk and he’s not –  

Lucretia and Merle practically collide coming around the corner to the kitchen, following the sound of something falling, Taako shouting, the telltale ozone-spark scent of spellcasting. 

They’re greeted with a destroyed kitchen, never mind the ingredients. Taako doesn’t look at them when they enter. He’s breathing heavily. The countertops are charred. A cupboard hangs open, its hinges warped. Smoke, running water because he hasn’t turned off the sink.  

“She’s dead, she’s  _ fucking  _ dead —"

Lucretia surveys the scene, only showing how taken aback she is for a brief flash, horror sprinting across her face in a wave, gone as soon as she feels her muscles move. She sets her jaw and casts Calm Emotion before Merle can, and the world around her is crystal clear, sparkling, too-sharp. Her head rushes and then stops. Everything is still for a moment. 

Taako shrugs the Calm Emotion off with a roll of his shoulders, he doesn’t want to be fucking  _ numb,  _ he doesn’t want to feel  _ okay _ , Lup’s dead, his sister is dead and he should have gone with her, why the fuck did he not — 

He realizes that he’s speaking out loud, but he can’t stop — 

She puts her hands up, gesturing surrender. “Okay, yes, I understand, I’m trying to keep everything from being on fire.” Their eyes lock, gravitate.

Taako starts crying, and everything is terrible, because he doesn’t cry, but he is, and Lup is dead, and he wishes he was dead too. Lucretia steps forward, gingerly, reaches out to touch his shoulder. 

* * *

There’s a blanket around his shoulders and he’s sitting in the living room. Everyone keeps giving him blankets, he thinks absently. What’s with that? He’s not sure when he got here, sitting cross-legged on the couch.

The remaining members of the crew start to accumulate slowly, agglutinating like filmy specks of blood on a slide. Barry plops down next to him with a heavy tome, squeezing into the crevice between Taako and the arm of the couch, occasionally murmuring under his breath or scratching a note in the margins. The susurration of his pages turning merges with the whisper of Lucretia flipping through her journal. She curls up on Taako’s other side, pulling a corner of the blanket around herself. Magnus, never far behind, stretches out as best as he can with his head in Lucretia’s lap, feet propped up on the other arm of the couch. 

Here’s the part where he should say “Hi,” Taako thinks. Or “Geddout of my personal space, sheesh, let a guy have some breathing room, will ya?” Or “Why do you guys keep putting blankets on my shoulders, cha’boy ain’t  _ cold _ .” 

He doesn’t say any of that. He just keeps staring straight ahead. 

Merle clatters in and dumps a book, some papers, and a potted plant on the coffee table. He’s singing out of tune, eliciting a half-smile from Lucretia and an eyeroll from Barry. Lucretia is sketching, and the sketch begins to change shape, reflecting.

He should say something, Taako thinks. Or maybe lean over Lucretia’s shoulder and ask her what she’s drawing. Or tease Barry for being a nerd. Or make a crack about Merle and his plant. All of that seems like an immeasurable effort, though. 

Lup’s gonna be back in a year, give or take a few months, Taako thinks. He shouldn’t be taking it this hard. 

Lucretia wraps an arm around him, continuing to sketch, expression grave and faraway. She draws Lup, but it’s not right. She can’t quite remember exactly how her ears move, where exactly she looks when she’s in bed, lustful, appraising, how she moves in the kitchen, her brother’s mirror yet still distinct, sharply demarcated. 

They were dating, Taako remembers. Lup and Lucretia. Sort of? Sleeping together. He didn’t ask for details, and she didn’t provide them. Lup and Lucretia were fine with letting people assume, and oftentimes the lines were too blurred and expansive to put a name on it. S’like that sometimes. 

How do people deal with actual death, he wonders. 

Lucretia stares into space, glassy-eyed, trying to see Lup’s face in her mind’s eye. She needs the cycle to reset, and shames herself for it. Selfish, selfish. She resolves. Magnus yawns. Barry dozes. Time slips past, unforgiving.

* * *

It’s a cold afternoon, and Lucretia has taken her need for warmth into her own hands. She’s snuggled up under the fluffiest blanket she could find on the living room couch, a steaming mug of hot cocoa in one hand, a pen in the other, notebook balanced on her lap, barely legible notes from Barry and Merle spread out on the couch next to her. As the only one with the ability to read their chicken-scratch, she’s taken it upon herself to copy their field notes into her journal, edited for clarity, of course.

There’s serenity in the boredom of transcribing notes about different plant species, and her mind wanders, dipping and settling as she writes.  _ This species has significant pleiotropy in all varietals cultivated, though all are edible and have similar nutritive value… _

The one benefit to a cycle without Lup is having a third less transcription work, she thinks, and then berates herself internally for even considering it as a boon. 

“Where’d you put the tea?” Taako’s voice calls from the doorway to the kitchen. “I can’t fucking find it, what the hell did you do with it?” 

Lucretia snaps out of the flow of words, managing to not jerk the pen across the page. “I’m drinking hot cocoa, haven’t seen the tea, sorry,” she says, almost too quiet to hear. 

“You’re the only one other than me who drinks it,” he says, and it’s sharper than it should be, implicit accusation. He pokes his head out into the living room. He’s scowling. It’d be more intimidating if he didn’t have giant bags under his eyes. 

“I’m sure it’s around here somewhere, just look in all the drawers,” she says, irritable at the interruption, waving her hand in the direction of the kitchen. She starts to write again, slowed by the need to restart, find her place, float into the stream of the words. 

“I tried that!” he says. “What, you think I’m some sorta idiot? S’first thing I did.  _ It’s not there _ , what’d you do with it?” He stomps over and tries to loom. It’s not particularly effective without the added two feet his hat gives him. 

She narrows her eyes, shoots him a glare that doesn’t carry any gravitas. “What makes you think this is my problem? I’m busy,” she says, and turns to a fresh page, starts sketching him absently.

“Uh, it’s your problem, cause like cha’boy said, it’s  _ you  _ who’s the only other one who drinks it! Also, hey, are you, are you fucking  _ drawing me _ ?” 

He’s wearing ratty pajama bottoms and a t-shirt. His hair is tied up in a messy bun. He looks exhausted. He knows it. 

“Oh --” she makes an attempt to cover up her drawing with her forearm. “I just, you know,” her face heats up, clearly flustered. 

“Seriously?” he says, layering his voice with all the disgust and indignation he can muster. It’s not much. “You can’t just, not when I’m like—” 

“Like what?” She snaps the notebook closed and reluctantly puts her half-empty mug on the coffee table. Unwilling to leave the cozy nest of blanket and pillows, she rests chin on hands and looks up at him. “C’mon, relax, I can make you a cup of cocoa if you want. I’m sure the tea will turn up sooner or later. Can’t have gone far.”

“You can’t just draw people when they don’t wanna be draw-ed,” he tries again. 

“Then maybe don’t come bother the person who draws everyone?” she teases gently. 

“Dammit Lucretia, I’m trying to pick a fight with you,” he says, but all the heat’s out of his voice. “Let me have this,” he continues, sitting next to her on the couch in a sulky heap. “Stop being so fuckin’  _ reasonable. _ ” 

She laughs at this, a peal that sends her careening into him. “Stop being such an ass and let me make you cocoa. ‘Sides, if we fight, then I have to write about it, and then Barold will get on my ass for not copying down all this chicken scratch,” she gestures to the pile of illegible papers on the coffee table.

He rests his head on her shoulder. “I don’t want cocoa,” he says. He does. He would very much like it if she made him some cocoa, but he has  _ standards.  _ He can’t  _ say  _ it. “Don’t let Barold catch you callin’ it chicken scratch.” 

She pokes his side. “You mean you don’t want  _ my _ cocoa. And even Barold couldn’t deny it’s chicken scratch. Hell, I’ll make a note of it here. Not that anyone’ll ever read them in that much detail, but. We can’t afford to forget how godawful his writing is.” She smiles bright, that laugh again. 

Taako smiles despite himself. He pulls a bit of her blanket over his shoulder. 

“Luce, am I a bad person?” 

She holds him close to her side, pats the blanket around his shoulders. “Naw. You’re just a little cranky.” She picks up her mug, mumbles a quick cantrip to warm it, and drains the cocoa with a satisfied sigh. 

“Yanno what I mean,” he says. “Seriously.” 

“And you know what  _ I  _ mean. I’ve known you for, what, a decade?” She twirls a curl thoughtfully, opens her notebook again, resumes her sketch. “I think I’d know by now if you were a bad person.”

“Yeah, but even I know I’ve been  _ fuckin’ insufferable _ ,” he says miserably. “And it’s not like, I can’t stop, you feel?” 

Lucretia doesn’t look up, furrowing her brow, concentrating on her work. “What do you mean, can’t stop?” 

“Iunno, ya’boy’s just  _ like this, _ ” he says, gesturing to himself and explaining nothing at all. 

“And…?” she asks mildly. She quirks an eyebrow.

“And I keep being an asshole! And I don’t  _ care _ that I’m bein’ an asshole,” he says. “You know?” he says again, as if she’s supposed to read his mind. 

She nods thoughtfully and lets the silence expand like hot gas between them. “Do you, though?”

He shrugs, makes a face. “I care that I don’t care that I ca— okay, this is getting stupid, but s’like, I remember caring, but then it’s not that I cared, it’s that  _ Lup _ cared, and since Lup cared, I cared, and, hachi machi this sentence, is getting outta hand but, well, she’s not here and I don’t care.” 

“You don’t care and that’s upsetting?” She fixes him with a look not unlike the one Merle gives them during Mandatory Debriefing Sessions. 

“Not  _ upsetting, _ exactly.” 

“Then what?” She put her pen down, sketch complete, and opened the coffee table drawer, digging through it in search of something. 

“I just don’t  _ like  _ it,” he says. 

“Found it,” she says, unearthing a tin of tea from under the coffee table. She lets the unctuous silence spread for another sticky moment. “But you know she’ll be back soon, doesn’t that help?” She tosses him the tea.

“Knew you had it,” he says smugly. “I mean, I guess. But she’s not here now, you know? And what if this is just, what if this is just what I’m like? That’d be fuckin’ weird.” He pauses. “Kinda bad.” 

He stands up to go back to the kitchen. Lucretia mage-hands her mug over to the countertop, starting a fresh page in her notebook. 

“Have you ever gone this long?”

“What do you mean?” he asks, pausing at the doorway, glancing back. 

“Without her, y’know, here?” Her face is open, concerned. 

“Luce, the longest we’ve been apart is a  _ week _ ,” Taako says, and disappears into the kitchen. 

Lucretia takes note. She will remember that. He’s certainly different, more impulsive, more prone to lashing out. She keeps writing. 

“And that was  _ awful _ ,” he says, calling from the kitchen. “I mean, it’s not like we’re fuckin, what’s the word,  _ conjoined _ , but it’s weird not having her around, and I thought it would get less weird but it hasn’t.” 

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine?” he says, tilting the statement upwards as he walks back with two steaming mugs. “I mean, it sucks, but I’m fine, I guess. You’re right, she’s gonna be back, so.” 

“Really, you’re  _ totally fine _ ?” she looks him up and down, taking in his disheveled appearance and accepting the hot tea. 

“Myeh,” he says, making a face and blowing on his own beverage. “I mean, what the fuck else am I supposed to do, not be fine?” 

She rolls her eyes. “I mean, that’s an option. Dissociating less would be an option, too.” She sips her tea.

“Dissociating,” he scoffs. “I’m not, I’m not dissociating.” He sits down next to her again. 

She stops writing and pulls a blanket around them, drawing her knees up to her chest. “Look, I know what it looks like when you’re dissociating, gods know I’ve done enough of it.” She’s observant, and she’s seen him spiraling. He goes days without saying anything more than a perfunctory greeting, there’s nothing behind his glassy eyes, and he floats through the halls like a ghost. It’s hugely obvious to her, because she’s doing the same thing. 

“It’s not like it’s a choice,” he says, and rests his head on her shoulder again.  “I don’t wanna talk anymore, okay?” 

She holds him close and leans into the silence and her heartbeat and his breath and it’s almost okay.

* * *

The year ends as it always does: no matter where everyone is, no matter death or injury or state of dress, all seven members of the Starblaster’s crew coalesce out of light on the deck. Magnus has a black eye again. Lucretia’s hair is long again. And Taako is holding Lup’s hand.

She blinks. “Wow, well that broke bad, what’d I miss?” 

“You missed the  _ wildest _ party,” Merle says, slight crack in his voice betraying his emotions. 

Taako flings his other arm around Lup and crushes her to him, burying his face in her shoulder. 

“You  _ asshole _ —” he says, and that’s all he can choke out. 

The rest of the crew pulls the twins towards the couch, where they all collapse in a relieved pile. Lucretia mage-hands a journal open to a page filled with neat text. “You won’t  _ believe _ what dumb thing Maggie ate this time, I can’t believe you missed it, he was vomiting purple for  _ days _ !” 

“Weeks, actually,” Magnus says, sounding weirdly pleased with himself. 

Lup bursts into laughter. “I can’t believe I missed that,” she says, tears of mirth streaming down her face. 

“Do you want to explain  _ why _ you ate it, Magnus?” Lucretia says, attempting to be stern while wedged comfortably between him and Lup. 

“Well, you know,” Magnus says, and shrugs, as if that explains anything at all. 

“He ate it ‘cause he’s an idiot,” Taako says from where he’s squished in on Lup’s other side. She has his arm around his shoulders. “Just like you. What’d you think you were doing, getting your ass fuckin’ killed?” 

She raises her eyebrows, trying to look flip. “Hey, shit happens. ‘Sides, I’m good as new now,” she says, and holds him closer. 

They spend the day on the couch, filling Lup in on the adventures she missed, punctuated with Lucretia’s sketches and snacks prepared by the twins. They don’t stop holding hands. Tomorrow, they can worry about this plane, worry about finding the Light, worry about the Hunger. Today, they rejoice.

* * *

“I didn’t miss you at all,” he tells Lup later that night while he’s lying on her bed in their shared room.

“I didn’t miss you either, doofus,” she says, flicking him on the forehead.

“I really, really, really didn’t miss you. Now I’m gonna have to hear you snoring,” he says, and burrows deeper under her covers. It’s like when they were kids. They stopped sharing a bed when they were in their teens — when they finally grew enough that a second bunk was deemed necessary. But he kind of feels like if he lets her out of his sight she’ll disappear. 

She stretches her legs and makes an exaggerated snoring noise. “Get used to it, ‘cause I’m not going anywhere.” 

“You promise?” he says, and he means for it to be a joke but his voice wavers in the middle of asking. 

“I promise,” she says quietly, and holds her brother tight.

**Author's Note:**

> come scream at us about taz or whatever on tumblr. iz is @anonymousalchemist and emi is @emi--rose. title from edna st vincent millay's "lament".


End file.
